"So who's this Orochimaru I've been hearing about, un?"
"A lowly snake in the grass," Sasori replied gruffly. He watched Deidara toss a shiny red apple into the air and catch it in a rhythmic pattern. Annoyance flashed across coal-black eyes. The kid matched his gaze then shifted to stare at the misted, purple and gray mountains miles behind the bulking figure.
Dozens of rice paddies covered the landscape at the foot of smooth hills. A rare crane stalked about in the shallow waters searching for food. It moved gracefully, lifting its long legs and causing ripples in the water only a creature native to the environment could produce. Deidara studied the animal and made a note to remember its form. The slenderness of its body would be perfect in attacks calling for quick aerodynamics.
"Would you stop that?" Deidara blinked and ripped his cerulean eyes from the beautiful creature. He caught the apple and held it.
"What?" he asked, adding some bite to the word.
The older ninja remained silent for a while then turned his wrinkled head down the dirt path. "You done resting yet?" He glanced quickly at the younger man.
A curling smirk formed at the corner of Deidara's mouth. "Nope!" And to prove it, he fell back onto the stone he sat on, using one arm as a pillow and taking a bite of the apple. Sasori groaned and the blond smiled further.
This was his first time being in Rice Country. He'd heard tales of the country's beautifully serene landscape, of the way the clear sky connected to the mountains in a thickening fog, and of the way one could forget all the world by just staring into the still waters of rice fields. He wasn't about to let an opportunity like this pass by so soon.
Plus hearing the annoyance in Sasori's voice was kind of amusing.
Deidara sat up and, scanning over the horizon, finished the apple. He tossed the core into the bushes behind him. A disgruntled sigh emanated from deep within Sasori's throat.
"Brat. You never think do you?" He said this quietly, almost to himself, but just loud enough for the younger nin to hear.
"Are you ready to go now?" he asked, louder this time.
"Un!" the blond nodded before jumping off the rock. The older man gave the other a narrowed glare before facing the path and crawling forward. Deidara followed.
"So what is this Orochimaru besides a 'lowly snake in the grass?'"
"Orochimaru is one of the three legendary sannin, Konoha nin possessing Kage level skill. Like myself, most of Akatsuki are of the same skill. Though I doubt you're even close to that." Deidara scowled at the remark. "Orochimaru also used to be my partner before he left Akatsuki."
The blond bomber folded his arms. "I already know that." Orochimaru's name had come up in conversation several times between the three older Akatsuki members shortly after Deidara's battle with Itachi. He caught them using both Sasori and Orochimaru's names in the same sentence, along with partner. It didn't take a genius to figure out their earlier relationship.
Sasori let out another vexed growl. "Then there's no point in telling you why he left Akatsuki."
The scowl marking Deidara's face deepened. That was one thing he was not completely sure on. From what he knew, Orochimaru was a force to be reckoned with, an S-ranked criminal of the highest degree. So why would Akatsuki allow such a power to leave? Sasori eyed the long frown on Deidara's face, taking it as a silent answer.
"Orochimaru developed a technique to make himself immortal. In order for the technique to work, he has to possess another person's body every few years. Before he left Akatsuki, he attempted taking over Uchiha Itachi's body but failed thanks to the boy's sharingan. Akatsuki does not look well on traitors," Sasori added with a sidelong glance at the younger artist beside him.
Deidara did not pay attention to the stare. The mere mention of immortality, of permanency, and not to mention the sharingan, made his eyes narrow in contempt. "Why would anyone want to live forever, un? Life would just be boring."
"You think immortality is boring?" Something in the gruff voice drew Deidara away from the pompous air with which he walked. His blue eyes swept to a steely onyx pair staring back underneath a conical straw hat. After a few seconds they slid away.
"My guess is Orochimaru's just afraid to die." The monotone grumble on the edge of irritation returned. "Orochimaru also took over this whole country."
Deidara halted a second, his one visible eye wide. "How?"
"He's one of the legendary sannin and a former Akatsuki member. How do you think?" Sasori glanced at the blond and took in the stunned look plastering his face. "Don't be so surprised. From what I've heard, all Orochimaru had to do was let his reputation precede him and persuade the feudal lord to let him build a hidden village, Otogakure." Village hidden in the sound.
The shock faded from Deidara's face. Then, suddenly, stomach dropping and mouth going dry, a dread took over. The young artist swore and glanced over his shoulder to find the path completely barren.
Sasori caught the motion and sighed. "Dumb brat. Akatsuki don't make such amateur mistakes."
Deidara pressed his lips together in a frown, not daring to look down on the older, more experienced Akatsuki dragging along beside him.
Less than half an hour later, the attack began.
Like those trained to use sound as their main advantage, they advanced quietly, undetected, waiting in the branches of the surrounding forest for the perfect time to attack. Soundlessly, several kunai shot at the pair.
Deidara and Sasori jumped apart to avoid the knives. Still in mid-air, Deidara dug his hands into the clay pouches hanging from his hips. The mouths growing out of his palms greedily ate the soft clay, chewed it, then spat it out. Just as he landed Deidara clenched his fists and allowed both chakra and skilled tongues to morph the claw into small, spider-like sculptures. Sasori, meanwhile, landed with a dull thud a few meters away.
The clay spiders crawled down their creator's frame and went in search of the ambushers. A smirk grew on the artist's face.
Sasori lifted his head and scanned the surrounding landscape. Rice fields bordered the path with trees growing up from the opposite, shallow shores. There the Sound nin hid and from there they struck again.
Shuriken went whizzing after their targets, slicing through the fresh, calm air. Deidara jumped to avert them and met with another pair launched to counter such a move. In less than a second a long, thick white snake erupted from the mouth in Deidara's palm and blocked the sharp tools.
Deidara landed firmly on the ground, his open-toed sandals digging into the loose dirt and folds of his robe flapping wildly from the momentum. His ears barely had time to register the whistle of another attack before he had to dodge again.
This time, when he turned to face the advancing weapons, he caught the sender standing in the middle of the path between him and older Akatsuki. Evading the projectiles, Deidara also noticed the unfamiliar symbol marking the boy's hitai-ate—an eighth note.
His eyes dashed to Sasori's hulking form just beyond the shinobi. Another ninja with the same style headband, wielding several menacing weapons and grinning triumphantly, opposed the Akatsuki member.
"Are you just going to stand there?" came the gruff voice of Deidara's partner.
The ninja, a boy with short red hair, let out a humored sigh. "We were told to take in prisoners alive." He obviously did not see the old hunchback as more than a mild threat.
"I hate overconfident brats like you."
Boom went the clay spider surreptitiously clinging to the boy's back. Deidara's smirk turned toothy as the Sound nin stumbled forward from the blast, blood and bone flying from the large wound.
Deidara hurled the clay snake at the remaining enemy, distracting him just long enough to make it back to his partner's side. The Sound nin slashed the snake in half with a quickly drawn katana. The brunet grimaced at the site of his fallen teammate, spotting his burnt, bruised, and ruptured body behind the two foreigners.
Biting his thumb and drawing blood, the Sound nin reached into a pouch strapped to the small of his back and pulled out a scroll. But before he could open it and summon whatever weapon or animal the scroll was made for, the blond bomber lifted his hands in a characteristic seal.
"Katsu!"
An orb of yellow and white grew out of the man's back then bloomed into a flower of light brown smoke, blasting with a resounding scream of agony. Pieces of the Sound ninja rained down and stained the calm waters crimson. His broken body landed face-down in the mud.
"Watch it, brat!"
Two more shinobi appeared behind and in front of the pair. They each carried a large scroll on their backs, which they then un-strapped and threw, in a curving flight, at one another, forming a circle of paper decorated with complex designs. In less than a second they formed their summoning.
Like a violent rain, a wall of kunai, shrunken, and other blades shot at the pair from all sides. A cage of knives surrounded them with no gap big enough for even the most dexterous of escapes. Devoid of all forms of safety, Deidara did the only thing he could. He threw a hand instinctively into his clay pouch, fell into a kneeling position, and used the other arm to shield his face, closing his awe-struck eyes.
All he could hear in the darkness was a sharp cling, cling, cling before something collided with his forehead and sent him falling sideways onto the ground. Five seconds after he landed, Deidara opened his tightly shut eyes and blinked.
Aside from the throbbing of his cranium, nothing else emitted any pain. The Iwa-nin pushed himself up into a sitting position and stared down at his unscathed body. Then, lifting his gaze, the artist drew in a sharp breath.
Shading him from the sun's bright rays was a metallic tail. It swayed, waiting. The tail was built in sections and ended in a sharp point dripping with a glistening purple liquid. A different liquid, crimson in color, dripped from the tail's outward edge. Below the tail's shadow laid piles of projectile.
Deidara followed the tail down from its sharp point, down the evenly-spaced sections, and ended at the lifted black cloth of his partner's cloak. The youngster's eyes widened further.
He stood up quickly. He drew a fist out of the clay bag, a creature already manipulated into perfect shape in his closed palm.
But no Sound nin were there to greet him standing up. Four bodies cut nearly in half floated in the shallow waters on either side of them. Two more shinobi had appeared to aid their comrades. The water surrounding their slashed forms turned a reddish brown which their dark clothes soaked up eagerly.
"I knew you were the kind of kid to get themselves killed before you know it. Don't think I'll be so willing to save your sorry ass again, brat."
Deidara remained silent. He squashed the clay crane in his hand, clenching his fist harder and harder as each second went by. Bits of white clay fell through the cracks between his fingers and he finally stopped and put what remained of the mass into his bag.
Wordlessly, he stepped forward and crouched down near the closest body. "Are they all dead?" he asked, balancing on the balls of his feet.
"If they aren't now, they will be soon."
"How should we dispose of 'em, un?"
"You're the pyromaniac," Sasori answered insultingly. "You figure it out." Strangely, the title brought a smile to the blonde's placid face.
After pilfering the bodies of any money or other useful objects, the dead men met their funeral pyre. Their murderers continued journeying through Rice Country—or Sound Country—whatever they called it now.
As the remaining ashes sunk into the thick mud never to be seen again, Deidara lifted a hand to his forehead. He was curious to see if whatever knocked into his head had drawn blood or left a bruise.
Lifting the headband, Deidara's fingers lightly glided over the metallic sheet bearing Iwagakure's familiar symbol. But, strangely, when his forefinger followed the indented grooves he found something unfamiliar about it.
The Iwa-nin pulled his headband completely from his head and inspected the indented symbol. His jaw slackened.
A long horizontal slash bore through the stone-inspired design.
"I let one get through to teach you a lesson."
The young artist shot the other a weak glare. His deep eyes returned to the damaged hitai-ate in his hands.
Before now the thought of slicing through the symbol of his home, the place where inhabitants had revered then run from his art, had never crossed his mind. Usually it was rogue ninja who cut through their village's symbol, using the new design as a way to show their contempt or vow to never return.
While Deidara may have been a terrorist bomber, he was not one of those over-symbolic rogues who slashed through their hitai-ate as soon as they ran. And it wasn't sentimentality that kept the headband intact either—the band was just a convenient way to keep his hair out of his face. So the artist never touched the stone symbol.
Only until now did he even bother to look intricately into the design, giving it a longer viewing than just a glance. Staring into the chipped metal, a part of him, a part he had never thought existed, felt chipped away as well.
Deidara let out a short sigh. Face reverting to placid calmness, he pulled the headband over his forehead and, fidgeting with it for only a second, positioned it correctly.
"Let's go before more of 'em show up."
A/N: I want to apologize for taking such a long time to update. I tried researching as much as I could about Rice Country, Sound Country, and Orochimaru's role in shaping it but kept getting mixed messages. So I apologize if any information is wrong.